She’s nervous. Her gaze keeps darting around as we walk to my car.

"I have class after lunch, so I can’t go anywhere with you," she states as we pass the picnic bench that she sat on with Lucas.

I haven’t seen him at school today and wonder if she warned him. My hands ball into fists in my jacket pockets, and I remove them. The action has Layla looking up at me. The red shirt she wears hugs her small waist. Red is the best color on her. I don’t reply as I ...